


Scared but not Healed

by aNGELICmURDER



Series: You Get What You Paid For (The Price is on the Tin) [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 07:44:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aNGELICmURDER/pseuds/aNGELICmURDER
Summary: A chance encounter with a race of telepathic historians leaves Jim and crew unsettled.





	Scared but not Healed

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally mindless dribble because I felt the need to write. I don't have an editor so plenty of mistakes will be there and they are my own.

Two years flew by since the start of the Enterprise’s Five-year mission. Much of the beginning of that journey brought about its own tribulations, wonders and sometimes sheer boredom but the shared comradery after spending so much time together made the crew stronger. Despite being in space for two years, Jim still smiled when he took in the stars around him. Each small dot along the screen a tiny reminder of the magnitude of life within unexplored space. A small signal to other space explores that life existed on other planets. 

The Ullians felt the same. So much so that they started a Memory Library to preserve the history of the galaxy. Tarmin, a jovial if a bit egotistic man, walked them through the process when they docked. The Ullian’s major city mirrored their strong commitment to history, each building reminiscent of a mixture of old Tarren stone works and open Vulan architecture. Spock commented on the street ways following similar twists and turns of the folds of the brain while McCoy expressed his pleasure at artistry of their city design. 

The landing party spent a night with Tarmin and his son. Kirk, Spock and McCoy took advantage of the natural hot baths to relax and become reacquainted with each other away from the prying eyes of the rest of the enterprise. They were interrupted when a member of their security detail called for the Captain to the foyer-like place in Tarmin’s home. A young security officer, eyes wet and hands wrapped around their shoulder sat on the floor near the door. He refused contact with anyone and when McCoy reached out to examine him, flinched at the sudden movement. 

“What did they do to you man?” McCoy guffawed, running his tricorder over the body of the man, finding him to be in perfect health but shocked. He tapped the Tricorder, “blasted thing, I don’t need you failing on me now.” 

The young man was still aside from the small shivers that racked his body. He kept muttering to himself and staring past anyone who walked into his light of sight. Kirk grimaced. He knew the young man, Tomas Sharaway. He boarded the Enterprise at the last Federation sanctioned outpost as part of the replacement security staff that the Admiralty sent them. He was bright quick witted and if Jim remembered correctly, emotionally and mentally tough. Spock caught his eye and glanced down a dark hallway. From his vantage point Jim didn’t see anything but he trusted Spock and took the path. The soft limestone like bricks soften his footsteps. 

Spock stayed behind. McCoy was still looking over Lieutenant Sharaway and Spock wanted to make sure that whatever did this to the man would not harm his husband. 

“This is ridiculous.” McCoy began, “McCoy to Enterprise.” 

Static played over the frequency. 

“McCoy to Enterprise, Copy” 

Static played again along with a long whine until a sleepy sounding Ensign picked. “Enterprise copy.”

“Two to beam up.”

“Lenoard, while I commend you for taking care of Lieutenant Sharaway, I believe we should wait for Jim before-”

McCoy pushed the air out between his teeth, “Jim’ll be fine, Sharaway needs to get onto a biobed or at least somewhere more familiar than here. He’s in shock.”

Spock rose an eyebrow, as if to say, “I deduced as much.”

“Jim’ll come up when he’s done. Besides,” McCoy patted Spock’s stomach. “he’s got you doesn’t he?”

“I still believe we should wait until Jim returns.” Spock countered, “He might have some answers.”

A familiar sounding whine began before pulsating blue light engulfed McCoy and Sharaway “Good! I hope he gets answers, he can bring ‘em right to Medbay.”

The two disappeared before Spock could convince the doctor otherwise, leaving the man to find his other husband before he could get himself into trouble.

Spock found Jim sitting on a giant cushion of sorts. It’s sprawling mass too large to be a true cushion but too small to even count as a day bed. Tarmin sat with him, a small white ball in his hand with a thin line of light that expanded to display an image of Tarmin. The projected Tarmin sat in the very same room, in his lap he held a baby that he bounced on one knee and cooed to softly.

“As you can see Captain, it is a simple device.” Tarmin Paused. “I am sorry that your personnel experienced such harm holding it. I had no idea he carried such memories.”

Jim smiled, already falling into the familiar ease of diplomat as he caught Spock’s entrance. “It’s a simple misunderstanding, though now we know I can pass the information along to our CMO. Do you have any extra…”

Tarmin looked at Jim, eyebrows coming together just above his nose as he studied the silence between them. “Oh, you’re referring to the Annalist. Yes we do have some extras, on Ullian it is a way we introduce our children to the importance of keeping our history. We’ll pack up a box for your entire crew.”

“Oh that’s not necessary.” Jim said, getting up to leave. 

Tarmin matched him move for move, a large smile spreading across his face as he waved to someone behind Jim. “Ian, prepare an order of Annalists for Captain Kirk and his crew. We must not let them go empty handed.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim who only pursed his lips and continued to protest the other as Spock tried not to laugh.

When the Enterprise left the Ullian’s planet, they left with a small Annalist in the hands of every crew member, Tarmin, of course, came on board to offer a small demonstration of it worked to the crew. He explained that for any telepathic species it would be easy enough to project an image due to their strict training with their telepathy, however, psi null individuals will have to make due with surprise images as the Annalists responded the strong emotional ebbs and flows of the holders. The telepathic members of the crew tested Tarmin’s instructions. Many found that they had some degree of control over what images appeared but not much control over how long those images lasted or even what time they appeared. 

Tarmin brushed off their concern. ‘It only required practice’ he said. Smiling at everyone who attended. Jim felt that they belonged in an incinerator rather than in the hands of psi null individuals who had no say in what memories were pulled from their heads. McCoy agreed with him, fighting everyone who brought one of the small balls into his Medbay and removing them from patients he treated. While Spock did not see much harm in the Annalists he did ban them from Science Bay and pushed Jim to ban them from the bridge when the Ship entered dangerous quadrants of space.

Despite the concerns of the command team, the Annalists became a part o every day life on the Enterprise. Not only did everyone have one but many people enjoyed the memories they produced, rushing to share them with other crewmembers in what affectionately became known as flash parties.

McCoy wasn’t impressed with the rise in minor incidents that resulted from these flash parties and had found himself on the bridge with Jim, arguing over the continued presence of the balls on the ship. The Enterprise only had star mapping to do so Spock and Jim spoke with McCoy in a corner of the bridge. Near the front, Uhurya was smiling along with a fellow communications officer who managed to pull up a memory of Ey’s first space visit.

Jim listened to what McCoy said, agreeing with his points and cataloguing his complaints on a padd but his own notes suggested that the Annalist were actually boosting morale on the ship, increasing efficiency and comradery between crewmembers. Spock supported Jim’s claims, pointing out that instances of crewmembers falling into Astro-Induced Depression by 36% and the violent fall out between crewmembers who chose to become domestic and als dropped by 14% as the Annalists allowed them to relive moments that reminded of them of why they became domestic. 

McCoy huffed and continued to drawled out counterarguments, pointing out that an injured crew would not be able to defend itself in unknown space and more importantly that Nostalgia was recognised as a mental illness in 2258 due to the crew of Gallant being so lost in their own fantasies of the past that they allowed their ship too fly to close to a black hole.  
Halfway through the conversation McCoy’s third counter point, his Annalist started to glow. Soon it hummed and vibrated in his pocket, gathering the attention of the bridge crew. Spock’s Annalist also lit, seemingly answering McCoy’s. Jim looked between the two men. 

“Commander Spock, any guesses as to what’s happening?” Jim pulled his own Annalist out of his pocket, watching it begin to hum and vibrate until all three balls vibrated in time.

Spock responded. “It seems as though they’re trying to connect Captain. Why now I cannot say.”

The annalists went quiet. The bright glow between the three of them dimmed down to a shimmer. Twin lights came from Spock and Jim’s Annalist, connecting to McCoy’s as McCoy’s Annalist projected a beam of light bigger than what they usually projected. All three men look at their Annalist, eyebrows raised as a large image began to form over their heads, hazy at first but the cream, beige, red and gold colours began to solidify and turn into something familiar to every member of the bridge crew. A Starfleet dorm room.

The image remained still in the air, no movement but figures began to take shape. One figure, a young man with light flaxen hair, dressed in the standard Starfleet cadet red. His uniform moused up and bright blue eyes gleamed with anger undercut with another unnamed emotion. Across him stood another man; significantly latter with dark light absorbing hair and skin a tinted green, confused mostly but just as anger as his company. 

On the bridge, Spock went still, refusing to meet Jim’s eyes as he looked at him. 

“How do I stop it?” Jim, turned the ball over to run his fingers along the smooth surface. The Annalist, still the pristine white it was when he received it gave him no answers, just glowed dimily in his hand. 

The image began to move. In the dorm, Jim pulled back from Spock, arms raised high, hands balled into fists and hey could tell he was screaming though no sound played. The young Spock responded in kind, arms slayed out, yelling back as the sound cut in sharply. The sudden burst causing the bridge crew to flinch. “How was I suppose t know that Leonard was off limits!”

“How? Fucking how?” Jim marched up to Spock, getting close but not touching. “He’s my fucking best friend! How could you fuck my best friend!” 

Spock ran his a=hands through his hairs, leaning into Jim just as close. “Then what’s the point of a fucking open relationship?! You said you didn’t care! You said it didn’t matter.” 

“Yea! I cause thought you were fucking human enough to not fuck my best friend!”

Jim squirmed in his Captain chair, pale as he continued to fiddle with the Annalist. The small object glowed dimly but continued to project. “Turn it off!” 

He turned to Spock. His husband standing shock still on his eft, chest rising and falling heavily as the health green colour in his skin faded. As close as he was, Jim could see the way the other man shook unsure of whether he was just that angry or going into shock. “Spock,” 

The answering flinch answered all of Jim’s questions, his chest tightening as Spock kept his eyes locked on the screen. 

No sound filled the bridge. The crew, torn between staring and looking away looked at their command team for instrucions as the scene continued to unfold. No one answered, too wrapped up in the uncoming train that they’d previously lived through, now on display for the crew without a way to stop it. The Jim in the image huffed after the brief silence.

Spock responded. “I’m going to get my stuff and leave, give you time to think about it.” 

He walked the room, looking under cushions and chairs for his remaining clothing. He found his socks between the couch cushions and his pants tossed in an unruly heap under a kitchen chair. Shucking them on he began to make his way to the door, a small black knapsack, threadbare in places sat on top of a pair of Startfleet issued shoes, the Itials TSG stitched neatly on the flap.

Though Jim wasn’t finished with him yet. Still angry he he screamed. “Go ahead, run away Spock. You can dress like one of us, act like on of us but you’ll never be a fucking human!”

Spock paused at the door, letting his shoe fall to the floor. His hands balled and unballed and he rolled his neck, huffing before he started putting his shoes on again but not before Jim muttered, “coward.” 

A loud bang filled the room as Spock dropped his knapsack, spinning to much up to Jim who’s nose flared at the sudden invasion of his space. Spock rose a hand, finger digging deep into jim’s chest as he gritting between clenched teeth, low but unmistakable, “if your father were alive today he’d disown you.”

The bridge crew gasped at the words, turning between the captain and the commander. Neither man had their head raised. Both looking off to the side. Jim impassive, face pulled taught and eyes glazed over, seeing but not seeing while Spock turned his head down. No sign of like other than the shaking between them. McCoy stood by, impotent and struggling to finds the words, any words to say to make this go over smooth but the past was already written, and he witnessed first hand just how terrible it went between them. McCoy could feel as much as he saw the imagine of Jim swing at Spock, both knew Spock could have dodged the blow but he took the full force of Jim’s anger right to the nose, screaming in wordless fury as he dragged the Vulcan down, hitting anywhere his fists could reach. He screamed, “don’t talk about my father like you know him.”

“I know him and I know he wouldn’t want you!” Spock screamed back, pushing back, getting a solid hit at Jim’s chin. “He’d have left yot too just like everybody else!”

Jim took another hit at Spock’s jaw. “Fuck you!, Fuck you!”

Spock screamed back, raising a fist to take aim at Jim’s jaw when a pair of tan arms pulled the blond off him, pushing him into the couch, grabbing both his arms and Jim struggled to escape the grip. Spock lay on the floor breathing heavily, glancing at Jim, pinned to the couch as McCoy got between the two of them but McCoy didn’t look any happier than the blond, face pulled into his infamous scowl.

“What the hell are you doing Spock?” He barked out, shoving a hand over Jim’s mouth as he started answering.

“Nothing! He attacked me first!” 

Jim screamed behind McCoy’s hand, eyes flashing as teeth began to peek through fingers. 

“You did Jim, you know you did .” Spock marched up to the two, stopping when McCoy put his full weight on Jim to kick at him. The Vulcan stopped, the anger draining out of him suddenly as he reached out to McCoy. “Lenoard, talk to me.”

The silence stretched between them, Jim still worrying at McCoy’s fingers as the older man took stock of the Vulcan. “I think you should go Spock, unless you want to try swinging at me next.”

On the Bridge, McCoy decided he’d had enough, inching out of room, reaching a jog by the time he got to the lift and leaving. The sudden dinging roused the rest of the crew who began to mutter to themselves as the memory continued to unfurl before them.

The image split without the third to blend them out, one had Jim trying to wrestle out of bones grip as he tried to talk some sense into him and on the other side Spock leaned against the outside hallway, face in his hands and he sobbed quietly, only jerking up when a door slammed down the hallway.

Spock cleared his throat. “I believe I will complete the end of my shift from the laboratories. There are some experiences that require my attention.”

He exited without so much as a backwards glance at Jim, who still sat as if under a spell cast by the Annalist. His fingers had gone lax and the ball rolled out of his hand. The noise jerked him out of his reprieve and Jim croaked out a command for Sulu to take the comm before following his husbands, a ghost of his usual self.


End file.
